As I was sitting around last night craving comfort food and feeling a little sorry for myself, two words suddenly came to mind: I’m lonely. And then saying them out loud later to my husband gave me a bit of relief.
I’m lonely.
When it comes to friendship, I tend to put most of my energy into only a few relationships at a time and I have done that here as well. This time, I distributed most of it between my husband and my friend, S. (My son is a given, so I’ll leave him out of this.) S. is still in the hospital. And I’m not able to visit her just yet because I’m not family. And that makes perfect sense. But the other night I had a dream about her. It was the most mundane dream. We were talking—simply talking; sitting on a bench letting our kids play. Talking. Which is precisely how we actually spent most of our time. And the dream made me realize that I’m lonely. And that I miss my friend.
And that it feels a little less lonely admitting as much.


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